


Homura’s God

by orphan_account



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Angst, Gen, God - Freeform, Hurt No Comfort, Oneshot, Philosophy, beliefs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 22:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15129335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Homura struggles with her idea of a god and finds herself wandering into a church.





	Homura’s God

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slight vent fic based of some..thoughts I’ve had lately. Read at your own risk and stay safe!

Homura Akemi slipped quietly into the church, hoping it was empty. It was a large church, close to a cathedral in its grand appearance. There were fifty lines of pews, fifty lines of dark mahogany where thousands of people had once sat and read their Bibles or prayed or sang. This was the place closest to their God, and there was a sanctity in the silence of the church.

Homura walked past a little stand containing tens of tiny candles, all lit up. They danced in the drafty church. It hurt her eyes to look at them, just like it had hurt her to look upon Her, she who had always shone brighter than any flame and whose voice was the wind to which the flames danced.

She continued onward, her footsteps echoing loudly in the empty halls. It almost felt like the tall, white statues were gazing upon her, judging the booming click clack click clack of her heels.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

A large wooden door stood in front of her, its high arches adorned with gold wreaths and laurel branches. Its handle was polished to the point of reflecting her distorted reflection.

How ugly, how twisted was the face in the silver, contorted and twisted and elongated as it was? Was that how she really was? Twisted? Surreal? Did she even really exist, and if so, had she already fulfilled her purpose in the universe?

She reached out to the handle, the silver cold against her warm hand, and she knew then that she was alive. The tears were building up like a roaring wall about to come crashing down, like time itself flooding over her - but not yet. Homura Akemi had not lost control of her own body yet.

She took a strange satisfaction in seeing the smudges her hand left on the door handle. The door itself was old and worn, the black paint on the wood peeling, and the intricate designs largely blurring one into the other. The pristine of the silver seemed unnatural and eerie in contrast to the faded door, and Homura was glad to have taken away some of that out of place perfection. The church still retained much of its original grandeur, but it would not stand against time. Eventually, everything fell to time, Homura herself included.

Homura stood in the middle of the aisle, facing the altar. The organ stared down at her from the balcony, its pipes extending all the way to the ceiling. Slowly, trembling, she walked down the aisle, a bride of sadness and despair, her violet eyes dark and her black hair trailing behind her like a widow's mourning veil.

Behind her, she heard a tiny pattering of feet. She stopped walking, but she did not turn.

Akemi Homura, said a high voice behind her, a voice she had heard many times in her nightmares and in her lifetime - or was her lifetime a nightmare all along?

"What do you want?" Homura replied coldly. You have no right to be here, she silently added. This is a place of worship, leave.

The Incubator tilted its head, as if amused by the notion of religion, as if it could be amused at all. Are you saying, then, Akemi Homura, that you believe in a God? Its tail swished back and forth as it walked closer to Homura, still keeping a safe distance away as it circled her once and then vanished.

How curious that you put your hopes and faith in a God who you don't even know exists, the thing continued. I never would have expected you of all people to believe in God, although I have encountered many magical girls who do. But surely, Akemi Homura, you know best that God or no God, time will come to claim you.

Time. It was the reason for all her troubles and all her sorrows. If only she hadn't been so stupid all those times.

Homura said nothing, simply waited.

Kyubey vanished again, reappearing atop the organ, tail curled slightly under the keys. It walked across them silently. Well then, it doesn't matter to me, Akemi Homura. Either way, your hope and despair - those are the things that matter. Just keep fighting the wraiths. And remember, it paused. Its tone had not changed, but suddenly, the crisp, formidable air in the church turned cold and terrible. It's only a matter of time, it warned, disappearing for good this time.

She knew it was all only a matter of time. No one knew better than her how painful it was to see time, what she thought was her ally, rip away her only friend.

There was no one in the church as Homura stared at the gilded statue of Jesus, crucified, hung on the cross with a pained expression across His face. The statue stood right behind the altar, and it was a daunting sight for both worshippers and sinners alike. From behind the statue, the hazy light from the cloudy afternoon streamed through the stained glass rosette windows. The dark blues and greens cast small reflections on the intricately designed stone floors, but the dark reds appeared to stretch further, slashing at the ground in anger, perhaps to punish Homura for her ignorant actions in the past.

Homura collapsed, falling to her knees, under the mournful gaze of that statue. He looked so sad, whereas She had been warm and inviting, nothing like the God depicted in this church. Homura sobbed, silently at first, but then loudly, her throaty cries reverberating around in the emptiness. There was no one but her left. Only she knew.

There was no need to do it. After all, there was no one in the church. But Homura froze time anyway. This moment, she wanted this moment to be between her and her God alone.

"Forgive me," she whispered, tears running down to the floor as she sniveled and choked, her hands clasped tight, and her face hot from crying. Her eyes were glued shut by her sadness.

In the darkness behind her eyelids, Homura thought she could see the faint twinkle of stars, a blinding white gloved hand and whiteness billowing all around her. She could feel the familiar warmth that she had felt ten, a thousand, an infinite number of times over - the same warmth she now craved but could not find anywhere in the universe. A smile, Her smile, brighter and safer than Her wings which now extended to protect all magical girls.

"Homura-chan..."

Homura jolted, her eyes flying open. There was no more whiteness. Only the church now, its grandeur greatly diminished by the vision of the most beautiful sight Homura had ever seen.

She curled on the floor, tears running down her face to the ground, no longer able to see clearly through her dulled eyes.

"Madoka... forgive me..."


End file.
